The Bard
by GeorgysGirl
Summary: Two lonely people find each other - a birthday fic for Zoe.
1. Default Chapter

The Bard Birthday Fic for Zoe Disclaimer: It's not mine not any of it. Joss, Tolkein and U2 are the guys to thank. Summary: Two lonely people find each other. Rating: 15 Notes: I've taken some liberties with the timeline and I've got Arwen living for much longer than the books state after Aragorn's death. This is a step away from my usual dark fic and angst something sweet and lovely.  
  
It was late September. The leaves were fading from the trees and the last day of the summer was coming to an end. The year was passing slowly, every second seeming to last a day and each day taking forever. The sun rose and set with the same regularity and yet for some people, each day was a torment.  
  
Arwen Evenstar stared glumly out of her window. The sun was setting in the distance, tinting the sky a mass of pink and purple and yet even the beautiful sight could not bring a smile to her face. There would be a feast tonight, the Harvest feast, and she was expected to attend, to smile and to laugh and add her queenly presence to the proceedings. Her King had been dead for what seemed like all of her life but, in reality, was scarcely more than a decade. The pain still ran through her every time she thought of him and, had she known how much his death had hurt her, she might well have thought twice about making the choice she had and perhaps, just perhaps she might have listened to her father. Arwen ruminated on this for a moment but then turned away from the window, twirling the ring that still encircled her finger. No, there would never have been any other choice for her. She would rather have lived for one day knowing his love than spent all of the years of the Ages without him.  
  
Elessar had been deeply mourned by his people but, as Arwen was well aware, human life was short, and it continued without him. The years had passed with festive days depressing her more than any other day. Her King had always loved a good feast and she missed his presence by her side. The Spring Feast, the Midsummer Feast, tonight's feast celebrating the harvest and the Winter Party were times for the people to join together and have fun and Arwen would never have denied them that. She just wished, sometimes, that she could flee this palace and find refuge in her father's home. But her father was long gone and Rivendell was all but deserted now.  
  
A quiet knock on the door roused her from her gloomy thoughts and her maidservant peered in. Tarna, an elfmaid from Rivendell had been with Arwen for as long as she could remember. She gave Arwen a sweet smile, appreciating how the Queen was feeling but began chatting airily about the feast to try and cheer her friend up.  
  
"What colour do you wish to wear tonight my lady?"  
  
Arwen looked listlessly at the array of gowns hanging in her dressing room.  
  
"I think the blue tonight, Tarna."  
  
"There is a new bard come from Edoras. He is said to have the sweetest voice this side of the Mountains. The Lord and Lady of Edoras sent greetings to you and letters with him and begs that he should play for you."  
  
"Who is he?" Arwen smiled a little. The Lady of Edoras, whilst having many good qualities, was not the best judge of musical talent and had sent many tuneless singers Arwen's way. They had, however all been first class comedians and had always managed to make Arwen and Elessar smile.  
  
"He is a stranger to these lands. The wizard, Gandalf, knew of him and I believe he rode with your husband during the War."  
  
"He knew my husband?" Arwen questioned. "And yet he lives? How is this possible?"  
  
Tarna gestured for Arwen to sit so that she could brush her hair. Un- braiding the long chestnut strands Tarna told Arwen all she had heard of the stranger from Edoras.  
  
"He has no place of origin, nor home. He rides from place to place making his living as a bard although he is a keen rider and experienced warrior. For a while when he first came to these parts he travelled with Gandalf and, I believe, also spent a short time with your father at Rivendell."  
  
"How is it that I have not heard of him before?" Arwen mused.  
  
Tarna began brushing Arwen's hair with long smooth strokes until it lay as a shining mass across her shoulders.  
  
"He is a quiet man and keeps to himself. Rivendell was a busy place during those years. I hear that although he is of the race of man, he seems to have an unusually long life span. Apparently he looks almost the same as he did when he first came travelling in these parts."  
  
Arwen sat in silence as Tara arranged her hair in a simple style and then helped her into the elegant dress.  
  
"My lady, is there something wrong?" Tarna knew her mistress well. She meant "is there something wrong besides the obvious?" She had always been devoted to Arwen and when the elf princess had made her choice, Tarna had not hesitated in making the same. She was absolutely devoted to her and they were more than mistress and servant, they were friends and Tarna would not leave Arwen to live a lonely existence after Elessar succumbed to inevitable death.  
  
"I think it is time for me to leave this place," Arwen said softly. "I think now is the time for me to return to the place of my ancestors. Lorien calls me, Tarna. I hear it stronger every day."  
  
"You would leave here?" Tarna was surprised.  
  
"I will. And soon."  
  
"Then I shall be at your side, my lady."  
  
Arwen hugged her friend tightly, grateful for her presence, for her love. These last years would have been far more difficult if Tarna had not been around to grace the castle with her presence, to pass on gossip and to comfort Arwen at her saddest and most lonely moments.  
  
"Time to face the crowds, I think." Arwen squeezed Tarna's hand, and the two of them left the room to join the people massing for the Harvest Feast.  
  
********************************************  
  
The dancing had been hot and heavy all night and the wine had flowed freely. Arwen had sought sanctuary in one of the smaller rooms with Tarna and some of her friends. She sat quietly, peacefully, watching the flames flicker in the fireplace and listening to the idle chatter but was lending little more than her presence to the party. She had danced as she was supposed so, she had smiled at everyone she was supposed to and now all she wanted was her bed. But it was too early and she knew the new King would be hurt if she disappeared off now. So instead she hid herself away, suppressing the quiet longing to turn to see Elessar sitting next to her with a smile on his face.  
  
There was a movement in the doorway and she turned to see who the new arrival was and caught her breath.  
  
He was tall, his hair cropped unfashionably short with a piercing gaze. He looked stern but she could tell that he could be kind; his weather-beaten face had laughter lines and a smile played around his well-shaped lips. He reminded her of her Elessar, in a way that she could not describe. Perhaps it was the confidence, the look in his eye, the way he spoke to the other occupants of the room as he settled himself by the fire. He was carrying a stringed instrument in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other and Arwen realised that this was the stranger from Edoras, the bard.  
  
Tarna couldn't keep her eyes off him. He was beautiful for a human and, if the stories were true, he wore the weight of his years well. She gestured subtly to Arwen who sat up in interest.  
  
"Play something for us" someone encouraged and the man sipped at his wine before settled the instrument on his lap, placing one hand at the neck of what looked like an over size lute and the other ready to pluck the strings.  
  
"What would you have me play?" he asked, laughing.  
  
"Anything!"  
  
The stranger played for what seemed like hours, completely unfatigued. He seemed to know every song that was requested of him and a couple more that weren't. He knew drinking songs, which no one had heard before, but the words were easy and people soon picked them singing at the top of their voices. He knew softer songs, tales of people Arwen had never heard of with strange names from stranger places. She listened avidly as his voice that was strong and true told of love and battle and left her heart soaring. He touched her in a way she had not been touched for years and yet not once did he raise his eyes to look at her.  
  
Finally he stopped, his fingers resting on the strings of the lute and finished his wine.  
  
"One more and that's me done for the night," he said. Arwen noticed he spoke Common with a strange accent, very precisely. "Any requests?"  
  
"Sing one for us. A love song." A couple in the corner who were sitting peacefully together made their request. Arwen's gaze went to them and her stomach contracted painfully. The man sat comfortably on the floor, his back resting against the panelled wood wall of the room and his love, his wife; lay with her head resting on his lap. Their hands were intertwined and their love for each other was visible, shining from their eyes.  
  
The bard inclined his head in agreement and then thought for a moment.  
  
"I will play you a love song from my home country."  
  
His deft fingers plucked at the strings rhythmically as everyone fell silent. His voice quiet at first, husky strengthened throughout the song. You say you want  
  
Diamonds on a ring of gold  
  
You say you want  
  
Your story to remain untold  
  
But all the promises we make  
  
From the cradle to the grave  
  
When all I want is you  
  
You say you'll give me  
  
A highway with no one on it  
  
Treasure just to look upon it  
  
All the riches in the night You say you'll give me  
  
Eyes in a moon of blindness  
  
A river in a time of dryness  
  
A harbour in the tempest  
  
But all the promises we make  
  
From the cradle to the grave  
  
When all I want is you  
  
You say you want  
  
Your love to work out right  
  
To last with me through the night  
  
You say you want  
  
Diamonds on a ring of gold  
  
Your story to remain untold  
  
Your love not to grow cold  
  
All the promises we break  
  
From the cradle to the grave  
  
When all I want is you  
  
His fingers stilled as the dying notes echoed into the room and everyone clapped afterwards. "Thank you, I'll be here all week," he said, standing and stretching.  
  
Arwen whispered rapidly to Tarna who followed the bard out of the room. She came back in with a smile on her face and nodded once to the Queen who announced that she was tired and would be retiring for the evening. She wished everyone a good night and left the room, leaving Tarna behind. The corridor was empty but as she walked in the direction of her rooms, the bard was standing on one of the many balconies, which overlooked the main Hall staring down at the feast, which was still in full swing. He looked up as he heard Arwen's approach. "Thank you for waiting for me" she said.  
  
"I was glad to" he replied in her own language. She smiled at him; unaccountably glad to hear elven speech from someone who wasn't Tarna. He spoke it with the same accent that had been apparent when he had used the Common tongue but it made the elven speech beautiful.  
  
"I have not heard such speech for a long time." Arwen commented. "I would talk you with a while, if you are not tired."  
  
"I always have time for a lady. Especially one as lovely as you."  
  
Arwen, to her complete embarrassment, found herself blushing. He courteously offered her his arm and she took it and they began to walk together.  
  
"You are Queen Arwen, the Evenstar?"  
  
"I see you know me, but I do not know you." Arwen grinned up at him and saw his green eyes crinkle in a smile.  
  
"The name I have used for the time I have been here is Giles. Giles of Sunnydale."  
  
"And your true name?"  
  
"Is also Giles. Rupert Giles."  
  
"Where is Sunnydale?" Arwen could not recall ever hearing of such a place and she was struck by the lost look that suddenly passed over the face of Rupert Giles.  
  
"I wish I knew," he said softly. "I came here, by mistake, many years ago. So many, in fact, that I have lost count. I had a home, a family and friends. It was during a fight against a powerful witch. She sent me through a portal although I do not believe even she knew where she was sending me. When I awoke I found myself here."  
  
"Here?" Arwen was fascinated by the story.  
  
"In the forest of Lothlorien" Rupert Giles amended. "I was found by the guardians of the forest who took me to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. I stayed there many days and the kindness of the Lord and Lady was amazing but no matter how hard they tried, there was no way for me to return."  
  
"What happened in the fight with the witch?" Arwen asked.  
  
"I do not know. But I hope and pray that it ended well. It's a story for another time."  
  
"You are staying here in Gondor?" Arwen asked.  
  
"I have been invited for the whole of the Harvest Feast" Rupert Giles smiled. "And I have met an enigmatic woman that I would like to know better."  
  
Arwen met his gaze and smiled. "I believe she would also like to know more of you too Rupert Giles. I hear you knew her husband."  
  
An expression of grief passed over the Bard's face as they reached Arwen's rooms and he took her hand in his, pressing it gently and looking deeply into her blue eyes.  
  
"I knew him well. He was one of the bravest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and I followed him without question. He saved my life and I had the honour of defending him during the final battles."  
  
"You will come to me tomorrow then? I would love to hear more of your life and of your time with Elessar," she said hopefully.  
  
"I will." Rupert Giles lifted her hand to his lips and she felt the soft warmth of his touch across her hand. "I hope your sleep is peaceful, my lady."  
  
He turned away from her and she stood at the doorway of her room watching his retreating back. The weight of her grief that she carried round with her had been lessened by his kind words and she knew that her Elessar would not mind if she spent a few hours in his company. 


	2. 2

The Bard 2 Dedicated to Zoe - her birthday present Summary: Two lonely souls find each other Disclaimer: Not mine. Not none of it. Notes: Thanks to CinnammonGrrl - she's the best  
  
Arwen found him waiting for her in her private chamber. He stood tall, gazing out the window across the plains, his hands clasped behind his back. She entered noiselessly, her elven grace masking her movements but somehow he heard her, perhaps sensed her and turned as she came to stand behind him. He inclined his head and wished her a good morning.  
  
"I believe you wanted to speak of my lord Aragorn?" he said politely.  
  
"Tell me of yourself first... how you came to be here... and then tell me of my husband."  
  
Tarna appeared with a maid following her, two trays loaded with fruit and jugs of wine. Giles waited until they had finished laying them out on a table near the fireplace where a gentle fire flickered, adding its warmth to the room. Arwen took a seat and Giles sat opposite her. She served him with her own hands, cutting the fruit for him and pouring the wine.  
  
"The place I come from, Sunnydale, is a town. It is a very different place from here, very modern, all tall buildings and no trees. Saruman was obsessed with burning the forests and turning his back on the natural order of things. He devastated the beauty of Isenguard and, in many respects, Sunnydale is very similar. A beautiful place hidden behind ugly buildings, horseless carriages and electricity."  
  
"Electricity?"  
  
"A power source my world uses. Not always good for the environment. I had friends and family, my status was that of Watcher."  
  
"Watcher?"  
  
"In my world, there were demons, vampires, evil witches and wizards. Here, people are aware of the evil that roams the land - the orcs and goblins-- but in Sunnydale and the rest of the world, people remained blissfully unaware. But for the chosen few, the inhabitants of my world did not know that magic existed."  
  
Arwen could not believe her ears. A world that did not believe in magic? She could not comprehend such a place.  
  
"As a Watcher, I had the responsibility to train and care for a Slayer."  
  
"A Slayer?" she inquired, gazing at him over the rim of her goblet.  
  
He elaborated. "One girl in each generation is chosen to stand against the darkness, the oncoming tide of evil. The true title is 'vampire slayer', but Buffy? She wasn't fussy. She pretty much dealt with anything that stood in her way. Vampires, demons, even a god on one occasion."  
  
"A god?" Then Arwen replayed Giles' comments in her head. "Buffy?"  
  
"I know. Hardly a name to strike fear into your opponents' hearts. She was brave and funny, beautiful, and so intelligent." His voice trailed away as he became lost in his thoughts. "I was so very proud of her." he finished softly.  
  
Arwen was struck by the look of longing on his face and asked tentatively, "You loved her?"  
  
"As a father loves a daughter - she was everything a father and Watcher could hope for." Giles sipped his wine and allowed himself to be lost among his memories for a moment before pulling himself back to reality.  
  
"You mentioned a portal?"  
  
"Usually Slayers and Watchers work together, just the two of them, but Buffy had devoted friends. Two of them, to begin with-- Xander and Willow-- and then others who were willing to fight beside her. Two girls named Anya and Tara, and Buffy's younger sister, Dawn. Willow became a magic user, the term in my world is Wicca, but 'witch' describes her equally well. She became powerful. Too powerful - I didn't realise, I should have kept a closer eye on her..."  
  
"You were her teacher?" Arwen smiled at Giles. Of course he was a magic user, that would explain the frission of power she sensed from his presence.  
  
"Not for long enough. I mentioned Buffy fought against a God. Glory-- that was the name of the God-- brought down the barriers between all the dimensions and Buffy, after defeating Glory, gave her life so that the barriers could go back up again."  
  
"She died?" Arwen was horrified. Despite her years of living among humans and even with the loss of her beloved husband, she still had trouble comprehending death.  
  
"She died and passed away to what humans in my world call heaven. Paradise. Willow and Xander, in their naivety, dragged her out of heaven, mistakenly thinking that she was in hell."  
  
"Hell?" Arwen questioned curiously.  
  
Giles smiled at her. He had forgotten that elves had no concept of hell or even heaven for that matter. He envied them deeply for that and tried to think of the best way to describe hell.  
  
"Hell is a dimension that my world believes exists. It's a mixture of Mordor and Mount Doom with everything evil you can possibly imagine."  
  
The horror on Arwen's face was obvious and he hastened to comfort her.  
  
"But we also believe in heaven. Which is the complete opposite of hell. It's described as the place of the blessed, paradise, eternal rest. And that is where Buffy actually was." A cloud passed over Giles' face. "Until she was pulled out."  
  
"How did they do that?"  
  
"It was Willow. She performed a spell which literally dragged Buffy out of paradise and back to Earth."  
  
Silence fell in the room as Arwen tried to understand why someone would do such a thing. She stared at Giles mutely, and he shrugged.  
  
"I wasn't there. I left them and returned to another part of my world called England. With Buffy dead, I had no real need to be in Sunnydale. I did not think - it didn't even occur to me that Willow would do something so stupid."  
  
"She was very powerful."  
  
"She thought magic could solve everything," Giles sighed. "Willow had a lover, the girl I mentioned earlier - Tara. Tara was killed brutally in front of Willow, who lost control completely. She delved into the dark magics of my world to gain her revenge on Tara's killer."  
  
"What happened next?" Arwen whispered softly, entranced by his tale.  
  
"The magic users that I knew in England contacted me and told me that a great evil had arisen in Sunnydale. They knew that I had been there and as soon as they told me, I realised who it was. I prayed it wasn't her, but I knew it was."  
  
Giles rose and paced the floor rubbing the bridge of his nose and fidgeting with his fingers.  
  
"The coven, the group of magic users I knew, imbued me with their power - good magic - and I teleported to Sunnydale. I managed to reach there in time to see Willow taking out her anger on Buffy, her best friend. I managed to hold her with magical bonds, but she broke free. She had sent a fireball after Dawn and Xander and Buffy went after it, trying to get there first. I faced Willow alone."  
  
Giles ceased his restless pacing and fidgeting and came to stand before the fire. His green eyes stared into the flickering flames as he relived those moments. Had he even realised the kind of power that Willow had already possessed, he might have thought twice about challenging her. She took the power the coven had given him without a second thought and with the flick of a wrist opened a portal to get rid of him permanently.  
  
"Can't have you hanging around causing trouble," she'd leered. He lamented the loss of her innocence and remembered the vampire Willow, the callousness and cruelty she had displayed. Shuddering at the thought of his own Willow falling so far, he wished he knew what had become of Buffy and what had happened since he had been forcefully ejected from his world.  
  
Arwen sat silently as he poured out his story, barely pausing for breath. The compassion and sorrow twisted in her heart and she could not help but stand and lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
  
Green eyes stared into blue and he saw nothing but grief and unhappiness and sympathy in her lovely eyes. He blinked away the tears that suddenly threatened and allowed himself to fall back into the chair.  
  
"And that is how I am here. I awoke somewhere on the edge of the Lorien Forest and was found by the elves who treated me with cautious courtesy. I was conveyed to the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. They extended all of their powers but could not find a way home for me. I accompanied Gandalf to Rivendell on one occasion and met your father but even the power of the two of them could not summon up enough magic to look into my world, let alone open up a portal to send me home."  
  
"I did not meet you during that time," Arwen said "Nor when I was residing in Lothlorien."  
  
Giles shook his head. "All I wanted was to get home. I was not interested in meeting people. After your father told me there was no option but for me to get used to living in this world, I went on a long journey. I travelled for a long time, and when I returned to Lothlorien the Lord Celeborn commented that I looked no older than when I had left. I had no idea that over forty years had passed while I had wandered the length and breadth of this realm."  
  
"Forty years? You are half-elven then?" Arwen asked, amazed.  
  
"I am human, through and through. But I believe that time passes slower in the land I come from than it does here. Hence I appear not to age at all."  
  
"Amazing," Arwen breathed.  
  
Giles shrugged carelessly. "The years pass slower and slower. I found myself in Rohan at the time when your husband was riding through with the elf and the dwarf. It was Eomer of the Mark who persuaded me to join them and from then on I fought proudly at his side."  
  
"Tell me of him," Arwen pleaded.  
  
Giles spent the rest of the morning telling Arwen of Aragorn's exploits in battle. She caught her breath as Giles re-enacted Aragorn's skilful swordplay - he was a true storyteller and neither of them noticed that the sun had set until there was a quiet knock on the door and Tarna entered with more food for them.  
  
Tarna took the opportunity to assess her mistress and was pleased to see that her eyes were lit with laughter and Arwen's pleasant laugh could be heard from the other end of the corridor.  
  
The two talked well into the night, Giles sometimes playing for her and Arwen singing elven songs for him. She told him of how she had first met Aragorn, her memories of him, how confused and bewildered and uncertain he had been before he had left Rivendell and how proud she was of the king he had become.  
  
The moon was high in the sky when Giles took his leave of her but she did not let him go without his promise that he would return. He gave her the promise gladly and Arwen slept peacefully that night, her dreams filled with thoughts of her beloved husband, the images vivid in her mind from the stories Giles had told.  
  
*******************************  
  
His "week" turned into a month, which turned into a season, and the two of them were often seen together. He became her companion but there was never any suggestion of anything untoward about their relationship. He was always courteous to her both in public and in private, and they came to consider each other good friends.  
  
"I plan to leave here soon." Arwen's statement did not surprise Giles as she had intended.  
  
"To return to Rivendell?" he asked casually as he framed a chord on the lute he was playing.  
  
"I think not. Lothlorien beckons me."  
  
"It is a beautiful place."  
  
"The twilight of my years is upon me, Giles. I need the old familiar places and the softness of the forests."  
  
"You are as lovely as you have always been," he complimented her. "I heard of your beauty from Aragorn and I thought, at the time, he exagerated but he did not.  
  
"I am named for the Evenstar." Arwen smiled into his eyes. "I think it is time for me to fade."  
  
Giles had never forgotten that Arwen had given up her immortality to be with Aragorn, but she had still had a longer lifespan than most. He hated to think that his friend would slip through his fingers and he would be alone again.  
  
Not entirely alone, he amended. There was also that elf and dwarf who came wandering through every so often, Legolas and Gimli. Perhaps he could tag along with them at some point.  
  
"I will accompany you, my lady," he offered. "There are still bandits on the road."  
  
Arwen smiled at him. "Your company would be most welcome." 


	3. 3

Author's note: Thanks SO much to Cinnie for helping me with this, for being harsh when she needed to be and encouraging for the rest of the time. Credits: The words of the lament are mine and are set to a piece of music called "She Moves Through The Fair" and I used the Mike Oldfield version. The poem is by WH Davies.  
  
In the bright springtime sunshine, Arwen and Giles started their journey from the city which had become her home so many years ago. She kissed her son and daughters goodbye and bid a sweet emotional farewell to her people, who had come to love their elven queen so very much. They had benefitted from her kindness and compassion, marvelling at her grace, and her love for her Lord Aragorn had made her a favourite. She travelled alone but for a small band of guards that her son had insisted that she take... and someone else.  
  
Arwen smiled across at Giles as he rode peacefully beside her. She was glad that he was with her. His company was easygoing and light, and the stories he could tell were amazing. She knew they were from his homeland of Sunnydale and it was the only way he knew of to keep the memories of that time alive. He spoke of his Slayer, her Angel, his Willow, her Xander. He laughed a lot when he remembered silly jokes and songs from his world and he would tell him to her, making her musical laugh echo out over the plains.  
  
When they finally entered the peaceful forests of Lothlórien, Arwen breathed a deep sigh of relief. To her dismay, the Wood that she remembered so clearly as a place of light and laughter was now dim, the sun's rays barely making it through the forest floor. Her horse nickered in the stillness but there was no sound, not even a bird singing. Just silence. She had sent her guards back at the borders to the Wood and now she and Giles rode alone. There was no hurry now. Now, they had time to breathe, time to be still, time to talk. Giles sang and recited poetry to Arwen.  
  
"I had no idea men had such words," she breathed after he had finished reciting one of his favourites "Tell me again."  
  
"What is this life if, full of care,  
  
We have no time to stand and stare?—  
  
No time to stand beneath the boughs,  
  
And stare as long as sheep and cows: No time to see, when woods we pass,  
  
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass: No time to see, in broad daylight,  
  
Streams full of stars, like skies at night: No time to turn at Beauty's glance,  
  
And watch her feet, how they can dance: No time to wait till her mouth can  
  
Enrich that smile her eyes began? A poor life this if, full of care,  
  
We have no time to stand and stare."  
  
"You speak it so beautifully," Arwen sighed happily. "I could listen to you forever."  
  
Giles grinned. "I would eventually run out of things to say."  
  
"I doubt that. I believe you could talk from now until the sky falls."  
  
"I'll probably be here until then."  
  
The sadness on his face and the bleakness of his voice caused Arwen to stop abruptly and stare at him. Only once before had she seen him look so....lost. So alone. She forgot sometimes that he was not from Middle Earth, that he had friends and family and he missed them, often more than he could say. It had not occurred to her for a moment that he did appear to be as immortal as the elf she had once been. But whereas she would lay down and pass on, Giles would not have that luxury. Was he really eternal? Would he be as the elves had been, watching with sadness as humans came and went in the blink of an eye. She could not bear the thought of her friend so alone and tears filled her eyes as the horror of his situation overwhelmed her. She stumbled and Giles caught her arm.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked, concern clear on his face.  
  
"I'm fine," she mumbled, brushing his hand away and swiping at the betraying tears.  
  
The days slipped by in Lórien. Giles was happy to be back in the cool green forests. There was a kind of peace there that he could not find elsewhere, and certainly not in the jostling, bustling city of Minas Tirith. Giles took himself off on the long walks through the trees, remembering the secret places from his time in Lothlórien before. The anticipation of Arwen's death hung over them, however, and day by day Giles watched her strength fail and felt anger flare up inside that he could not help her. The deep colour of her hair faded, along with her will to live, and even the vivid eyes that looked upon the world lost their sparkle. She became weaker and weaker, eventually being confined to her chamber, unable even to walk.  
  
As for Arwen, she found herself hungering for Giles' presence by her side each day. Not for him; she did not love him and their friendship was still, in her eyes, young. She felt a little guilty for using him the way she was, to bring her husband to life again, but he had something she did not. He had a mind full of memories of her Elessar. He had fought side-by- side with her husband, had made camp with him and celebrated with him on their wedding day. She watched Giles as he moved around the room and came to a decision. Her death was fast approaching, every day her strength grew less, but to fill the days until she closed her eyes against the world, he could fill her mind with colour. He could tell her of Aragorn, the Aragorn that she had never known.  
  
One day, they were sitting in her room, Giles playing softly for her while Arwen dozed as she did a little more each day. Then, in the near silence, Arwen spoke.  
  
"Do not mourn me, Lindar."  
  
Her words jolted him out of his reverie. She raised enough energy to give him a smile, but it had none of the power it used to. The sight of her slumped against the pillows was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes but he blinked them away, knowing it wasn't what she wanted.  
  
"Mourn you?"  
  
"This is what I want. Release. I'm so tired of being alone. I miss him so much."  
  
Giles smiled at her gently and framed another chord on his lute, humming softly under his breath.  
  
"I was so angry with him" Arwen began to speak in a quiet but intense voice. "He left me. He just laid down, and he left me. One moment there, and the next gone. By choice he left me. He chose to die. Of all the times you fought with him, you saw how he danced with death but in the end, he decided. He chose."  
  
"You know why that was," Giles said. "It is considered the wise and best thing to do."  
  
Her eyes streamed with tears. "I gave up my family, the chance to see my mother again, to be immortal and so be with him. And he chose to die. He left me." Her voice broke on the final word, and she turned her face away from him so he would not see her despair.  
  
Giles watched in silence for a moment before beginning a soft, lilting lullaby which he hoped would sooth her. He knew no other way of comforting this broken and lost woman. He knew she would not accept physical comfort from him, but this music-- this was all he had to offer.  
  
"Giles?" her soft voice broke through the music. He laid down the instrument and moved to sit on the bed beside her.. She stared up at him, her blue eyes cloudy with tears. "I don't want you to be alone."  
  
"I'm not alone, Arwen," he said softly.  
  
"I'm so tired," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"You're sorry? I don't understand."  
  
"You will," she whispered. "I have been unfair to you."  
  
Giles smiled at her. She thought she had hidden her motives for having him around but, to him, she was as clear as water. She had not been as devious as she had thought, and he had humoured her. He could not bear her to feel guilty for something that he had freely given.  
  
"Come closer." She lifted a weary hand and he took it, feeling the chill of death upon it. "You have given so much to me, and I have been ungrateful. But I can repay this debt."  
  
With sudden strength for one so weak, she lifted a hand to his face and spoke quietly to him, her breath shallow and laboured.  
  
"Find your way home, Rupert Giles."  
  
A feeling assailed him, cold icy fingers creeping from where her hand touched his face, sliding down his skin. He looked down at her and realised her eyes were fluttering closed.  
  
"Arwen?"  
  
He tried to speak but his mouth refused to work, no sound came from him. His vision blurred painfully and he shut his eyes against the kaleidoscope of colours before him.  
  
Arwen Undómiel dropped her hand from his face, the life ebbing from her as she watched him dissolve before her. Her last breath had been spent in one final act. She had chosen mortality for her King but had not shed the inheritance of Galadriel and her ancestors. Rupert Giles vanished into a haze and then into nothingness and she lay for a moment in silence, staring up at the sky. So this is death, she thought, as her eyes shut and Arwen faded into darkness.  
  
Giles opened his eyes, panting for breath. His chest ached and his stomach heaved. He fell to his knees, breathing deeply. He felt grass beneath his hands, damp grass and his gaze focused on the ground. Giles sat back on his heels. Lothlórien was gone and now, only trees grew up around him. He seemed to be in a clearing, and he stood slowly, wishing his head would stop pounding.  
  
"Arwen?" he called but he knew there would be no answer. He was alone. He was unsure as to what Arwen had done but he had a quiet suspicion that she had fulfilled her debt to him. Her parting words to him rang in his mind and he realised what she had done.  
  
There were lights in the distance and he headed towards them cautiously, the bright moonlight illuminating his path. Amazing to think that this land had once been the Golden Wood, the elven world. He did not recognise where he was but the path led to what seemed to be a car park and beyond that he saw the lights of some houses.  
  
He sighed. Houses meant telephones. Telephones meant explanations. The harshness of his world came flooding back to him, the whining voices, the demands on his time, the immaturity of people. An overpowering urge to run back to the clearing and plead for return assailed him but he remembered Arwen, giving her last breath for him to return home. He could not insult her in that way. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the houses and slowly began to walk towards them.  
  
**************************************  
  
The owner of the house he had come to first had opened the door, taking him in surprise. To his amazement Giles had found himself to be in England, recognising the soft accent as Norfolk. A subtle enquiry had revealed that he had found his way to a village named Elveden. That had brought a smile to his face.  
  
Buffy had sounded ecstatic to hear from him and had flooded his mind with news, none of which he had taken in other than the fact that Xander had managed to connect with Willow somehow. Someone from his coven had flown to Sunnydale and was taking care of her. Buffy wanted him home and he said he would be there as soon as he could.  
  
He had one final thing to do. Rupert Giles ran his fingers over the cool stone that he had had carved for the Evenstar. It was blank but for her name, and he had placed it out of sight beneath a massive oak tree. He settled himself before it, and closed his eyes. The lament came easily, the words flowing into his mind and as he sang he remembered the first time he had seen Arwen with her King on their wedding day, and then the final look in her eyes as she breathed her last, using the remnants of her life force to send him home.  
  
The evening has come The sunlight is gone The beauty of Arwen Burns bright in my mind And though the moon rises And night paints the sky The East is bare The Queen is gone Lothlórien stands empty She is gone from this place Her beloved has called her To join with him there She gave him her heart And she gave him her soul She is complete now As she was once before Undómiel Arwen Evenstar Blessed and Bright One Queen of Gondor You have touched my life And I am proud To call you friend Namarie 


End file.
